An Old Friend
by Kohana
Summary: AU Shindo Hikaru couldn't imagine playing a game he loved without the ghost who started it all for him. So when he inherits the goban that started it all, the 25 year old college student was ten years out of practice. But now, Hikaru can't imagine not playing anymore and must find a way back into a world that he once left behind.


**A/N: ** Truthfully, I'm not even sure where this came from. One minute, I was thinking about how in the world I was going to do some proofing homework for my Fuzzy Set class, and the next, I had to type this out. I have an idea for this and I'm rather interested to see where it takes me. That is, IF it takes me somewhere.

I'll leave that to your responses-if I get any. So please, enjoy!

**Disclaimer; ** Hikaru No Go is not mine. Although how fascinating would it be if an author wrote fanfiction for a work they published?

**An Old Friend**

**Prologue**

Maybe it was because of Sai, but after we met, I could no longer believe in coincidences. Everything, I believe to this date, happens for a reason. And inheriting this goban is no different.

I placed a hand on the cool wood, feeling the grid and tracing an imaginary spatter of blood. The last time I saw this board, Sai came to me. Now…now, there was nothing. No spirits, no energetic ghosts, no Sai. All of a sudden, I felt a stab of bitter disappointment. His voice was nothing more than a memory in my head, living only through my nostalgia.

My father sat stiffly next to me, the dark suit ironed to perfection as it often was. "Your grandfather wanted you to have it, although I couldn't imagine why." He mumbled through the ending. He was staring intensely at the board.

"Ah," I said softly, "I'd asked him for it back in middle school." I didn't expect my father to know about my intense obsession of Go. He was often away on work and frankly, I never told anyone about it. I had asked my grandfather for the board years ago when all I could think of was Go, but my grandfather turned me down. I had never asked after that, and I was surprised that my grandfather remembered.

And yet, here it lay before me. The wood was polished, the grid lines dark and straight, and to the side, two wooden go-ke that held the highly sought after slate and clamshell stones. It was all beautiful and good quality. And it was very well taken care of. This beautiful board lay pristine with no bloodstains as when I had first discovered it.

There was an awkward silence between my father and me. I never knew how to speak to him, and the death of his father seemed to hang heavily between us. "Are you okay?" I finally managed to murmur. I swallowed noisily, as I gazed at him from across the goban.

A wry smile quirked his lips for a moment before quickly disappearing. "Last time I checked, you weren't qualified to take on patients." The quip to my profession of choice did not go unnoticed, but as he was grieving his father's passing, I held no grudge.

"A few more years." I responded. The silence returned, stifling any continuation to our conversation. My dad finally stood to his feet, and I jumped up to meet his height.

"Do me a favor," he seemed to eye the board lovingly even though I knew for a fact that my father never favored the game of Go. "Please, don't hide it away, and take good care of it." He said this quickly and gave no eye contact, in a fashion similar to mine when I'm afraid I might start crying in front of someone.

"I won't." My response was curt, and with a sharp nod, my dad disappeared from my dorm as quietly and quickly as he came in.

"A goban?" My roommate stared surprisingly at the board that I left in the sitting area. I was still unsure of what to do with it and couldn't bare the thought of moving it.

"Yes." I said from my spot on the table where large textbooks lay on top the dark wood. "It was my grandfather's." I continued simply as if that was answer enough. That must have been the case as the tall male, Waya Yuusuke, nodded and gave it a reverent look.

He slid down to the opposite side of the table, and gave a sideways glance to one of the books scattered on the table. "Do you even know how to play?" He was now leafing through the book before deciding it was too boring to waste his energy on.

Yuusuke and I met in our first year at the University of Tokyo. With similar demeanors and easy ability of making friends, we seemed to hit it off. What started as an assigned roommate arrangement ended up in rooming together every year since. At this point, I had Yuusuke's sleeping schedule figured out and knew when he had a horrible exam and when I should leave him alone. He knew quite a bit about me as well. He knew about my dream of being a psychologist. He knew that while I was pretty decent at football, but stopped in high school to focus on my studies. He was my closest friend after Akari, and he knew just almost everything about me. Well, everything except the fact that I was haunted by a ghost whose love for Go transcended time and space, and ended in my love for the game as well.

"I will have you know," I started as I closed the book closest to me. "I am very aware of how to play go, and I could be the best Go player you've ever met." I grinned and winked.

Yuusuke laughed. "Sure." He replied offhandedly. "So I've been hiding this Go prodigy in my dorm behind psychology books when he should've been out, taking the world by storm!"

"Looks can be deceiving." I mumbled. I stood up from the table and moved towards the goban. I caressed the wood and grabbed one of the wooden go-ke. "Wanna play?" I said without thinking.

And then, I was stuck in time. It had been thirteen years since I had first taken an interest in this game. It had been ten years since I had last even thought of playing. Now, these ten years seemed like an ocean between the goban and me. How had I given up this magnificent game for so many years? Had Sai's vanishing made me so bitter to a game that I once spent every waking moment thinking about? I didn't realize that I was playing with the black stones in the go-ke before me until I noticed how I held one with practice ease between my index and middle finger.

Yuusuke stared at me, unmoving. "Never played." He answered; the look in his eyes seemed to question me. He seemed to add as an afterthought, "I have a cousin who's a Go professional though. You have that same look in your eye as he does when he's near a goban." He stood up and moved towards the kitchen, most likely looking for something to eat after a long day of classes.

I heard him between the thin walls, "How come I've never known that you played?"

I had to think about that. Yuusuke didn't know because Go was my past. I had disappeared from NetGo just as Sai disappeared from my life. It hadn't seemed fair to continue playing when the one who taught me to love it was no longer there. I stopped thinking about it because it hurt. "I don't know." I finally answered. I was still playing with the slate stones between my fingers.

Now, ten years later, I could not imagine spending another moment not playing it. How rusty were my skills, I wondered. Could I live up to the standards that Sai raised me to? Would Sai be ashamed of me? Taking a stone in my fingers, I placed it with an assertive _clack_ against the wooden board.

And just like that, a breath that I had been holding for years seemed to be released. Sai may no longer be present, but he was in me and I could imagine him beaming to see me there, before the goban once again.


End file.
